Triumph
by BittersweetSummer
Summary: You remember everything. Of your triumph over your feelings. Oh, the glory of love.


_**DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING OWNS HARRY POTTER. WHAT A LUCKY WOMAN…**_

_--_

**Triumph**

You start to wonder what it was that drew you to her in the first place.

Was it the freckles? The hair?

No, it was her personality. You noticed her flaming temper as soon as you encountered her on the Hogwarts Express.

You thank Merlin that you got the chance to meet her that day.

You remember walking along the corridors, among the whispers of your peers, condescending and glaringly judgmental. At that moment, you actually hated your father for making it seem like this.

Then you remember his quiet strength, his regret for the past, the never ending guilt for what he had done, and you feel ashamed for blaming him on anything that happened in your life.

Out of the blue, you saw her, crimson hair and scattered freckles, pushing her way past the crowd, snapping at anybody who got in her way.

You remember wishing that you had the ability to do so, without causing even more animosity for your name.

She pushes past you, making you stumble, although you hardly noticed, for most of the crowd was jostling you, on purpose or on accident, you still don't know.

You figure it was the former.

She hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she offered you a hand, and you looked at it dumbly for a moment, until it registered that they Weasley girl (_what was her name again?) _was actually _helping _you.

You decided to take a leap at it.

How worse could it get at the moment?

You remembered her hand was warm and soft, and feeling mildly repulsed for touching a girl other than your mother, you let her drag you along the corridor, past many astonished people.

You swear you saw a group pressing their noses against the window of their compartment.

She led you to _their _compartment. Actually, there was only one person occupying it at the time. A certain Albus Potter, you remember recalling.

His bright green eyes, electric, piercing, nothing like the soft spring green of your mother's eyes stared at you suspiciously. Rose gave him a long look, and in that connection, you felt as if they were having a mental conversation.

Albus relaxed after a long while, and the girl (_Rose, __that __was her name_) plonked you down on the cushion unceremoniously, and started chattering away, while you, struck dumb at the events that had happened, just gaped at her.

You recall thinking that she was _way _too talkative for her own good.

Of course, you relaxed eventually, enough to start a decent conversation with the two cousins.

That warm glow that you were feeling at the time, do you know what it was?

_Friendship_.

--

You reminisce about the old days, of unofficial Quidditch games, of bothering the Giant Squid, of teasing Moaning Myrtle (who seemed quite fond of Albus, for some reason.)

You remember the days studying in the library with Rose, while Albus was off in the common room, neglecting his homework.

You recall the exact day when you started looking at her in a different way.

All of a sudden, she looked _different_, and made your insides squirm whenever she was near.

You were working on a particularly difficult Charms essay, and had asked her for help. At that moment, when she looked up at you, you felt your insides convolute.

You stared blankly at her, unblinking to her worried gaze.

She asked you (repeatedly) what was wrong, and you shook off the feeling, thinking it was the oatmeal from breakfast.

It didn't stop.

For some reason, it only struck whenever she came near, whenever she winked at you from across the classroom, whenever she leaned over the table in the library to compare answers.

You, being the oblivious sixth-year you were, ignored those feelings for the longest time, making your days pass by agonizingly slow.

_What._

_Was._

_Happening?_

You doubt that the school nurse had any cures for this kind of sickness.

You remember that lazy Saturday. You were walking in the corridor with her, past the Great Hall, heading toward the lakeside.

She looked at you, laughing at something you had said (_you can't remember what it is at the moment.)_

You acted on impulse, grabbing her waist and pulling her into an

_Earth shattering, _

_High flying, _

_Fiery,_

_Intense_

Kiss.

And you were sure that she was kissing you back.

When you broke apart, she was looking at you with shining, sapphire blue eyes, with a look that made your already quickly-beating heart increase in speed.

You were surprised at yourself for doing that.

She didn't seem to mind, not in the least.

You remember her pulling you into the nearest broom closet, to better continue the kissing.

From there it was a blur of quiet laughing, of the whisper of your bodies against each other, of the thrum of your beating hearts.

You finally identify the feeling that had been plaguing you for such a long time.

_Love_.

--

**_Oh, how cliché was THAT guys! I loved writing every minute of it, to tell you the truth. _**

**_Please review!_**

**_-BittersweetSummer-_**


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